


Hold On, Let Go

by Aini_NuFire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Mark of Cain, Naomi's brainwashing, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Season/Series 12, Whump, djinn dream, djinn nightmare, tfwbigbang2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 13:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: An encounter with the Alpha djinn leaves all of Team Free Will trapped in a dream world where they’re forced to witness each other’s deepest desires and worst fears. But it just might prove their bonds of friendship and brotherhood unshakeable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Team Free Will Big Bang Challenge. Art by [casquecest](http://casquecest.tumblr.com/post/165156015400/hold-on-let-go-art-masterpost).
> 
> Thanks to Miyth for helping brainstorm, and to her and 29Pieces for beta reading. Takes place after 12x10 "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets."
> 
> Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine.

Dean guided the Impala up the long gravel drive to the bunker, slowing as he rounded the bend and found another car already parked outside.

Sam straightened in the passenger seat. "Did Mom tell you she was coming?"

"No," Dean replied as he pulled to a stop behind the sporty blue coupe.

Mom was as flighty as a certain trench-coated angel, and just as open about her comings and goings. First she'd needed 'time,' meaning space, and space meaning away from them. Then she'd come back when Dean and Sam had been missing in that government detention center, and Dean had thought she was finally going to stay. But she hadn't, and he was beginning to think she never would.

So as he got out of the car and headed toward the door, Dean didn't let himself feel anything other than mild curiosity at what she was doing here. Maybe to ask them in on a case, since she was apparently hunting now. And that was another thing he couldn't wrap his head around—he knew Mom had been upset to learn that he and Sam had become hunters, that she'd wanted to give up this life. But now here she was, readily diving back into it.

Just…not with them. Her own sons.

"Mom?" Sam called as they descended the stairs, making their way through the war room and into the study area where Mary was just standing up from one of the tables. She didn't have any books out or anything, which suggested she'd just been sitting there, waiting for them.

"Hey," she greeted, roving her gaze over them. "You just get back from a hunt?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Djinn. Took care of it easy."

She nodded. "Sorry I didn't call first. My phone got dinged up in a fight with a werewolf."

Sam frowned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Except…" She trailed off, and Dean's heart suddenly stuttered.

"You weren't bitten, were you?" he exclaimed.

Mom's eyes widened. "Oh, no. Nothing like that."

Dean could have sagged in relief. "Okay. Something else happen?"

"You could say that." She shifted her weight, looking uncomfortable, and Dean tried to brace himself for other bad news. "I realized something, on this last case."

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. Realized something?

Mom lifted her gaze to meet his. "I've been trying so hard to piece some kind of life back together, after losing it all. I didn't fit in this time, in your lives, having missed out on everything in between."

"Mom," Sam started, but she held a hand up.

"I realized that I'm still missing out, only this time it's my fault. My choice. And my mistake. But I don't want to miss any more." She hesitated. "I want to come back. I'm ready to come back. If that's alright."

Dean knew better than to get his hopes up, knew better than to let himself feel that much joy at something good in their lives, but in that moment he couldn't stop himself from smiling as his heart swelled with beaming happiness. "'Course it is."

Sam broke into a wide grin, which Mom returned.

"Hey, you're probably hungry after fighting a djinn," she said. "I'll make you something for dinner."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Sam said hurriedly.

She waved him off. "I want to." She looked at Dean next. "How's chicken alfredo sound?"

He blinked. "Um, good." Really good. "I thought you didn't cook, though?"

She shrugged. "I didn't. But did you know the Internet is full of videos teaching everything from gourmet cooking to building your own turbo-jet engine?"

Dean arched a dubious brow. "Uh…were you trying to build a turbo-jet engine?"

Mom laughed. "No. But I think I can handle chicken alfredo."

"I don't know if we have the ingredients for that," Sam spoke up.

Mom just smiled. "I stopped at the store on my way here."

"Oh." Now Sam looked a little taken aback. "Okay. You want help?"

She shook her head. "No, I got this. You two should probably shower, unpack." She moved forward then, pulling Dean into a hug first, then Sam. When she drew back, she gave them both another doting smile. "My boys," she said, reaching out with one hand to adjust Sam's collar, and the other to touch Dean's shoulder. Then she turned and headed toward the kitchen.

Sam quirked a brow at her retreating form. "Um, okay, what was that?"

"What was what?" Dean replied. "Mom's back." He was nearly giddy with excitement, because  _finally_. He had been floored when she'd first been resurrected by Amara, but then things had only become more and more confusing because Mom was…was not the Mom he remembered from his childhood. Mary had become an enigma, someone Dean still loved down to his core, but didn't know what to make of. But if she was truly going to stay now, then they'd get the chance to get to know each other again, and find a new dynamic. Yeah, it'd be hard and awkward, but no more so than it was already. They- they could make it work.

"Yeah, and she's making us dinner when she doesn't cook," Sam persisted.

"So?"

Sam heaved a sigh. "So, you don't think she's maybe trying too hard? She doesn't have to win us back or anything."

Actually, Dean wouldn't mind a  _little_  effort on her part to show that she still loved them. Her leaving—more than once—had hurt, after all. In some ways, worse than when she'd died, because that hadn't been her choice, and lately…she'd chosen to reject them. To walk out on them. Which Dean would never understand, and on some level wasn't sure he could forgive… But maybe her trying to do something normal and mom-like was her way of proving that she wasn't planning on leaving again. And if she was willing to try, then so was Dean.

"If she starts doing my laundry, we can tell her we don't expect her to be our maid," he said. "But right now, I'm starving, and I could go for some chicken."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. But don't say anything if she burns it."

Dean waved a dismissive hand at his brother. He didn't care if Mom was a 'good' cook or not, or even if she'd make cooking dinner a regular thing or they ordered in. In fact, he wouldn't care if she cooked every night and every night it was terrible.

As long as she stayed.

* * *

Castiel parked his truck behind the Impala and shut off the engine. He exited slowly, eyes peeled as he scanned the area. The old factory was the only thing out here, surrounded by fields and groves for miles. Just the type of place where a djinn would establish a nest. Sam and Dean had obviously thought so as well.

Castiel walked up to the Impala and roved his gaze over it. The vehicle was empty, and there was a thin dusting of pollen over its normally bright sheen, suggesting it had been parked here for a couple of days. That did not bode well. Castiel found it hard to believe that a djinn would get the drop on  _both_  Winchesters, given their skill level and experience. Perhaps there was more than one. He dropped his angel blade down from his sleeve and turned toward the building. He was fairly certain Sam and Dean were inside, as that was where their phones' GPS beacons were coming from. Castiel was immensely grateful Sam had taught him how to track those. He'd known the Winchesters were on a case hunting a djinn, but when he'd been unable to reach either of them after several attempts, Castiel had come to the conclusion that they must be in trouble.

He strode toward the building, windows so oxidized it was impossible to see inside. Gripping his angel blade in one hand, he grasped the door handle with the other and cranked it open. He cringed as the whole thing grated loudly and echoed throughout the dark interior. Other than that, everything was quiet. He moved forward cautiously, navigating his way around old machinery, standing work stations, and shelving units that created a labyrinthine layout.

He paused when he caught a metallic glint on the floor much shinier than the rusted pieces of equipment surrounding it. Crouching down, Castiel found it was a silver knife, probably Sam's or Dean's.

He straightened sharply and began to storm through the factory with more urgency. The Winchesters had been missing for a couple of days; if they had been ensnared by the djinn that entire time, then they were likely in severely weakened conditions.

Castiel swept around a pile of crates and pulled up short for a split second as his eyes took in the scene. Sam and Dean were suspended in chains looped around a metal pipe extending out from a machine unit, knees slightly bent as neither of them were supporting their own weight, their chins dropped forward against their chests, eyes closed.

Castiel stowed his blade inside the fold of his coat and surged forward, reaching two fingers of each hand out to their foreheads to cure the poison and wake them. He had barely infused a fraction of healing when a dark shape dropped down from above, driving Castiel to the ground. He rolled and tried to reach his blade, but the djinn twisted around as well, straddling him. Cobalt eyes blazed with murderous intent, and a flaming blue hand came slapping down across his face. Castiel bucked, but couldn't throw the djinn off. He felt something cold and electric begin to seep into his skin. Castiel thrust his own palm out against the djinn's forehead and summoned a burst of power to smite the monster. Golden light erupted, along with another surge of blue. The two collided, and then everything exploded with a crackling nova and resounding scream.

Castiel swayed, suddenly finding himself standing. He blinked and whipped his head around, taking in the bunker's library. What…?

Sharp tingles zinged across his arm, and Castiel winced as he raised his hand to watch faint blue squiggles race along his skin before dissipating. That…did not seem good. How had the djinn been able to affect him? Because this was most certainly not the bunker. Castiel needed to get back to reality, needed to save Sam and Dean.

A pair of footsteps sounded in the hall a moment before said Winchesters came in.

"Cas, hey," Dean said, surprised. "Didn't know you were coming by."

Castiel narrowed his eyes and studied them shrewdly. This was Dean, the real Dean. And Sam. So this was their dream world? And somehow Castiel had entered it?

"Uh, Cas, you okay?" Sam asked.

Castiel roved his gaze around suspiciously in search of the djinn. "This isn't real."

Dean raised his brows. "Come again?"

Castiel turned back to face them. "You've been captured by a djinn. This is a fantasy world." Though, he was curious how everything seemed…normal. Surely a dream of wish fulfillment would have tipped either of the Winchesters off. And why were they in the same dream world, for that matter?

Dean and Sam exchanged a confused look.

"That's impossible," Dean said. "Me and Sam ganked that thing days ago."

"You've been missing for days," Castiel pressed. "I only just found you at the old factory you must have tracked the djinn to."

Dean still looked as though he didn't quite believe it, but then the light seemed to go out of his eyes, and he reached a hand up to rub his jaw. "Dammit, I should have known," he muttered. "Mom's in the kitchen baking a  _pie_." He let out an embittered snort. "Obviously, too good to be true."

Castiel's heart twinged. That explained it, then. Their wish must have been for Mary to come back and stay with them, and if it was something they both deeply yearned for, it would be easier for the djinn to keep them in the same fantasy.

"So," Sam started carefully. "When we killed it…that was part of the dream?"

"It must have been," Castiel said. "Perhaps it knew you wouldn't fall for a wish fulfillment that drastically changed things, and so it attempted to trick you with truths mixed in with the lies."

"Well, that's just great," Dean grumbled, and Castiel could see some of the devastation peeking through the cracks of his staunch mask. "So I guess we have to kill ourselves to wake up, huh?"

Castiel pressed his mouth into a thin line. He should have been able to wake them himself, but when he tried to extend his grace to break the spell and free their consciousnesses, his power was blocked. He glanced down at his hand, flexing it curiously.

Dean marched over to one of the study tables and pulled out a gun that was strapped to the underside of it. "I hate djinn."

A muscle in Sam's jaw ticked as he grabbed a katana off a display rack and unsheathed the blade. Castiel looked away, unwilling to watch, even though it wasn't real and was their only method of escape. He braced himself, prepared to find the one djinn, possibly more, when they returned to the real world.

There was the crack of a gunshot, and the bunker scenery abruptly melted into mist. Castiel's vision went dark for a split second, and in the next eye blink, he was standing in a motel parking lot. His pulse spiked; that wasn't supposed to happen…

"Um…"

Castiel turned to find Sam and Dean with him.

"Shouldn't we have woken up in the factory?" Sam finished, gazing around in confusion.

Castiel clenched his fists. "We're still in the dream world."

"What? How?" Dean demanded. "I just ate a friggin' bullet; that was supposed to end the fantasy!"

"I don't know why it didn't work," Castiel replied. It should have. Sam and Dean should have been freed from the false reality. Was…was Castiel's presence somehow holding them back? He still wasn't sure how he'd come to be in the dream world. Perhaps…perhaps he needed to also participate in the mutual suicide for it to work, if all three of them were trapped together. But a quick glance at the Winchesters showed they hadn't carried their weapons into this new scenario, which meant they would have to find some in order to end it at the exact same time.

"Cas," Sam said. "Can't you just wake us up? Heal the djinn poison?"

Castiel shifted his weight. "My power is being blocked somehow," he admitted. "I'm not able to leave the dream world, either."

Dean's brows rose sharply. "Well, that ain't good," he muttered.

"Wait," Sam went on, eyes widening. "Did you kill the djinn before coming in to get us?"

Castiel averted his gaze. "I- I tried to. I started to smite it…but then I found myself in the bunker, and now I'm not so sure I managed to kill it."

"Found yourself in the bunker?" Sam repeated. "So, you didn't enter the dream intentionally?"

He clenched his jaw. "No."

"Oh, well, that's frickin' awesome," Dean groused. "So, what, the djinn is out there feeding on all three of us?"

"It shouldn't be able to feed on me," Castiel said, though that point was hardly significant. The important thing was the djinn was feeding on Sam and Dean while Castiel was somehow prevented from fighting back. "Was there more than one?" he asked.

Sam frowned. "No. I mean, I don't think so." He threw his brother a questioning look.

Dean just shrugged. "I only remember one. But I also don't remember getting nabbed." He turned in a half circle and spread his arms to encompass the mostly empty lot. "So what's this supposed to be? Sam, you got a kinky wish fantasy waiting in one of these rooms?"

Sam shot him a dark glower. "Don't you mean you?"

Castiel attempted to tune out their bickering as he scanned the area, trying to formulate a plan. Killing themselves—all three of them—was still their best course of action, so they would need to arrange a method.

"Um, guys," Sam said tensely.

Castiel turned around and stiffened as he caught sight of a group of men and women in suits making their way across the lot. Angels.

"Castiel," the one at the head of the group called out in greeting.

Castiel held himself rigidly as he eyed them, hand instinctively twitching in preparation to draw his blade, even though he knew this wasn't real. "Oriel," he said cautiously.

The lead angel dipped her head in acknowledgement of the response. "Castiel, we come bearing news."

He wondered what news the angels could possibly deliver that the Winchesters would want to hear, considering Dean's general dislike of them all. Unless the djinn had decided to go for something outlandish, like more of Sam and Dean's friends being resurrected, perhaps. After all, it wasn't like there wasn't any precedent for that.

But the trick wouldn't work, as they all now knew this was only an illusion.

"Given that Lucifer has been returned to the Cage," Oriel continued. "And your role in seeing it done, Heaven has reevaluated your standing…and it has been declared that your sins are forgiven, Castiel."

He stared at her blankly.

Oriel took an earnest step forward. "You can return home, to Heaven."

No one said anything for a long, tense moment, until Dean finally broke the silence.

"What the hell is this?"

Castiel pivoted, turning his back on the angels. "Nothing. We need to find some weapons, attempt to break the fantasy again." He stormed across the lot, having no idea where he was going, but wanting it to be anywhere other than here. Footsteps pounded on the pavement behind him as Sam and Dean hurried to catch up.

"Wait a second," Sam sputtered. "Is this  _your_  wish fulfillment, Cas?"

Castiel didn't respond, and Dean grabbed his arm to roughly spin him back around.

"Cas, what the hell? Is this really what you want more than anything? To go back to Heaven with those dickbags? After all the crap they've put you through?"

Castiel wrenched his arm free. "The djinn twists things, Dean."

Sam's brows knitted together. "Yeah, but…it's all based off a core wish." His eyes widened. "Shit, that means the djinn is able to feed on you, doesn't it? That's how we're here now, in your wish instead of ours?"

Castiel gritted his teeth. He didn't know how the djinn was able to pull this desire from his mind like that. And he was furious that not only was he somehow vulnerable to it, but that the djinn had broadcasted it for Sam and Dean to see. His hand inched toward his coat, tempted to draw his blade and stab himself through the heart just to end it. But if he did that prematurely, then it was likely to have the same effect as when Dean and Sam had killed themselves, and the djinn would just pluck another wish from one of them to fulfill.

"I don't know how our minds are connected," he said. "But I think we'll have to exit the dream together, at the same time."

"Can we go back to the fact that Cas would rather be in Heaven than with us?" Dean said angrily.

Castiel whirled on him. "Maybe what I really want is to not be hated by my own kind, for my name to not be synonymous with the new Lucifer, and to not be forever banned from Heaven, which was my home for  _billions_  of years before I met you." He paused to draw in a sharp breath, anger bleeding out as quickly as it'd come, and leaving only heavy sorrow. "Maybe what I want is to have finally earned redemption and forgiveness for all my mistakes."

Dean and Sam stared at him in stunned silence, and Castiel looked away, ashamed at his outburst. Across the lot, the group of angels were still standing there, waiting for him. He turned away from them too.

"Cas…" Sam started.

"I would not return to Heaven permanently," Castiel cut him off. "You are my friends—my family. We've been through much together, and I will always stand by your side…" His words choked off, and Castiel squeezed his eyes shut against swelling moisture. "It doesn't matter," he said more hoarsely. "This isn't real. It will never be real."

"You're better off without those dicks."

"Dean," Sam said under his breath, before changing to a sympathetic tone. "I'm sorry, Cas. I…I can't imagine what that's like, to lose your home and family like that. But earning redemption? You don't have to do that. From anyone."

Castiel shook his head. "You don't understand. When you both die, eventually, you'll go to Heaven."

"Debatable," Dean muttered.

"You  _will_ ," Castiel argued. "And I…"

Sam's expression slackened as he seemed to get it. "And you won't be able to see us again."

Castiel's throat constricted. That time would be a long way off if he had anything to say about it. Though, the Winchesters both had a propensity for doing their damnedest to thwart his best intentions at keeping them safe and alive.

"Damn," Dean murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Cas, I didn't even think about what would happen…later. Hell, dying's almost lost its punch at this point, you know?"

"Not for me."

Dean nodded contritely. "Yeah. Look, we'll find a way to change things, get you back upstairs. Like those douches just said, you helped re-Cage Lucifer."

"That was my pathetic wish for them to say that," Castiel countered bitterly. "All they see is that I let him out in the first place. Not to mention everything else I've done."

Dean shook his head adamantly. "You helped stand against the Darkness while those cowards hid upstairs. You defeated Metatron—"

"Then let him out again," Castiel interrupted. "You can see a pattern."

Dean scowled. "I don't care. Those dicks owe you."

"Maybe we can get a hold of Chuck," Sam put in. "Or something. But we're not just gonna let this go, you know. We would never leave you stranded on Earth like that. Or anywhere."

Castiel's chest tightened, and a spiky lump settled in his throat as Dean stepped forward to clap a hand on his shoulder.

"We're family, and that means no one gets left behind. In life or death."

Castiel gazed back at them, their eyes so full of earnest promise and unwavering resolve. He wanted to believe them, and the Winchesters sure had a way of turning Heaven and Hell upside down. But getting the angels to change their minds about him, after everything Castiel had done…well, stopping the Apocalypse had certainly been easier.

But he didn't argue the point further. Right now, they really needed to focus on escaping the djinn world.

"Perhaps we should find a high location to jump off of," he said, redirecting the conversation.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, alright."

"Anyone else have a problem with us repeatedly killing ourselves?" Sam brought up.

"Nuh-uh, this is the last time," Dean said. "It doesn't work, then obviously we need to think of something else."

Castiel didn't want to consider that possibility, as he had no idea what that something else could be. He started to turn in search of an elevated location, but then the bushes to his left suddenly thrashed as a figure came leaping out of them. Castiel recognized the djinn's tattooed skin and blazing eyes, and went for his angel blade.

The djinn tackled Sam, who was standing closer, driving them both to the ground where he wrapped a glowing hand around the Winchester's throat. Castiel lurched forward as Dean shouted, but before either of them could do anything, Sam's eyes rolled back, and both the air and ground warped sideways, flinging them into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam sucked in a harsh gasp and flailed his arms at thin air. Except he was no longer on the ground and the djinn was no longer on top of him. Mud squelched beneath his feet, and when he glanced down, a grimy and blood smeared face with vacant eyes was staring back up at him. Sam recoiled sharply, and almost tripped over another body, and another. Heart pounding, he whirled to take in a field strewn with corpses, some tossed into mounds nearly as tall as him. Everything was a wash of grays and browns and rusted red under a slate sky and heavy mist.

"What the hell…" Sam uttered. He threw a bewildered look at Cas, whose brow was furrowed as he also took in the massacre. Dean was standing a few feet away, his back turned to them.

"Sammy," Dean's voice cracked. "What the hell did you wish for?"

Sam frowned at the hint of recrimination in his brother's tone. "How should I know? The djinn could change just one detail, right? And everything else that follows becomes something else?"

But what the hell would have led them to this? Something to do with the Apocalypse? If Sam had any regrets, it'd be letting Lucifer out of the Cage the first time, but he'd come to terms with that, and they  _had_  stopped the end of the world from happening, so that couldn't be it, could it? Unless the djinn was scraping at the bottom of the barrel here.

Dean slowly turned around, expression drawn and eyes roiling with terror. His arms were held slightly out to the sides, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Sam's gaze fell to his brother's right forearm, and suddenly the oxygen got punched from his lungs.

" _No_."

The Mark glowed red and angry, fulvous veins forking up Dean's arm like molten lava. Sam gazed around at the carnage in new understanding.

"No," he ground out. "This isn't real. It can't be real."

"It's not," Cas confirmed, stepping closer and eyeing Dean critically.

"The hell it's not," Dean snapped. His eyes dropped to his arm, and he quickly covered the Mark with his left hand. "It's…I can feel it. The hunger, the bloodlust…" He curled forward with a grunt.

"But I would never wish for this!" Sam exclaimed, whirling toward Cas desperately. "None of us would ever wish for this!"

Dean had only gotten the Mark because he'd gone his separate way from Sam after what happened with Gadreel. If anything, Sam would have wished they'd stayed together, worked things out sooner so Dean never would have taken the Mark in the first place. He…he wouldn't have wished to actually die, which would have left Dean alone and completely willing to do something so reckless. But Sam was currently here, so his death after the Trials couldn't have been the wish fulfillment.

"Something's different," Cas said, eyes peeled at the surrounding fog. "The energy's changed."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked frantically. His heart rate kept amping up until it was thudding painfully against his rib cage. He had to kill himself, right here and now, and stop this nightmare.

Wait, nightmare…

"The air is charged with- with fear," Cas said, eyes squinting in growing confusion as he tipped his head back to sweep his gaze across the sky.

"A fear djinn," Sam breathed. That had to be it. He turned back to look at Dean. "This is my worst fear."

Dean lifted a pained gaze to his, eyes flashing between anguish and rage. "But this thing was fulfilling wishes. You saying there's two of them now?"

Sam had never heard of two from the separate offshoots working together. That would be counterproductive, wouldn't it? Since they fed off different energies.

"No," Cas said. "That was the same djinn I encountered that sent me into your dream."

"Then how?" Dean snapped viciously. "How can it do both?"

Sam's heart dropped into his stomach. "What if it's the Alpha?"

"The Alpha djinn?" Cas said dubiously.

"How else to explain how it can create both a wish fulfillment and a worst fear?" Sam pressed. "The two types had to come from somewhere. And maybe that's how it was able to get the drop on you," he added, gesturing to Cas. "Alphas are stronger than ordinary monsters, maybe enough to match an angel."

Cas's mouth pressed into a disgruntled line, but he didn't say it wasn't possible. And was that why killing themselves in the first dream hadn't worked to wake them up? Was the Alpha djinn just too strong for that? But then, how the hell were they supposed to get out of this?

Dean suddenly belted out a frustrated grunt and straightened abruptly. He marched over to one of the corpses and yanked something out of it. Sam's heart seized as he recognized the First Blade.

"Dean, no!"

Cas sidestepped to place himself in front of Sam. "Dean, don't," he warned.

Dean's entire arm was shaking as he gripped the First Blade. The Mark glowed even brighter. "I…I need to kill. It needs to kill."

"It's not really there," Cas insisted. "Dean, you can fight this!"

Dean gave himself a rough shake, and then lifted his chin staunchly—but not with resolve.

He surged forward, and Cas did the same, both of them colliding in a grappling hold as Cas grabbed Dean's wrist and tried to wrench the First Blade away. Dean's feet slid a few centimeters in the mud, but otherwise he held his ground. He head-butted Cas, dislodging the angel's balance, and managed to break free and swing a fist into the side of Cas's head. Cas dropped to one knee, but still tried to keep a hold of Dean's arm. But he no longer had the leverage, and Dean thrust his arm forward, slamming the pommel of the blade against Cas's temple. Cas crashed to the ground.

"Dean, stop!" Sam yelled.

Dean paused before landing another blow, and looked up impassively. "Why? You want a turn?" He stepped around Cas. "We never did finish what we started in the bunker. Though I definitely prefer this over a hammer." He twirled the First Blade in his hand.

Sam had to force himself not to take a step back, and held his hands up and out. "Dean, come on. You can gain control of this."

Dean stopped for a beat, and then his lips pulled upward in a minacious grin that didn't belong on his face. "I don't want to." With a blink, his eyes flicked black.

Sam's breath froze in his lungs, but just as Dean raised the First Blade, Cas stumbled upright and tackled him. Sam jumped out of the way as they hit the ground.

"Run!" Cas shouted at him.

But Sam couldn't do that, couldn't abandon his brother and best friend to potentially kill each other. Except Cas wasn't going for his angel blade, and was struggling just to keep Dean occupied. Dean threw an elbow into Cas's face, knocking him flat on his back. Then he spun around in the slick mud to gain the high ground, and delivered three successive punches to Cas's jaw and cheek. Blood splattered in streaking rivulets.

Hand latching around the angel's throat, Dean staggered to his feet to lift Cas off the ground. His other hand raised the blade. "I told you last time, Cas, next time I wouldn't miss."

"Dean, no!" Sam threw himself at his brother, knocking him down. Cas dropped, and Sam rolled through the muck, but didn't regain his center in time before Dean was on top of him next, raining down blow after blow. Sam felt his cheek split open, then his lip. His nose shattered next. Dean suddenly flung him down and climbed to his feet.

Through blurry vision, Sam watched Dean casually wipe the First Blade on his jeans.

"D'n," he gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "D-don't…"

A vicious kick to his ribs had him curling in and wrapping his arms around himself protectively. He had to do something, before Dean lost himself for good. This was Sam's worst fear, which meant he had to somehow…let it go. It might not wake them up, but killing themselves had at least ended the first scenario, so letting go of his fear had to be the way to end this one.

But how the hell was he supposed to let go of losing his brother in mind, body, and soul? Sam couldn't do it. He'd unleashed  _the_   _Darkness_  to not see that happen.

Dean stalked around him. "You know, I'm glad we get a second chance at this," he said glibly. He turned and waggled the First Blade at Cas, still sprawled on the ground. "No interruptions from the wingless choir boy."

Sam's airway threatened to close off on its own.  _No, no, please no_.

"Dean, please," Cas gasped, lending voice to Sam's roiling, silent pleas.

Dean snorted. "You never learn, do you?" he said scathingly.

Cas started trying to push himself up. "Dean, this isn't you."

"'Course it is. Isn't that right, Sammy?" Dean tossed a look over his shoulder at Sam. "You know exactly what I'm capable of."

As if to emphasize his point, he stomped over to Cas and grabbed a fistful of the angel's collar before Cas could gain his feet. Dean hauled him up a few inches, then slammed the pommel of the blade against Cas's head again. Cas plopped back down in the mud, eyelids fluttering sluggishly as blood streamed down his face.

Dean turned back to Sam, and the memories of Dean's fists pounding against him flooded Sam's memory. Of black eyes chasing him through the bunker with a hammer. But there was no last minute save from Cas this time, no Rowena to cast the spell to remove the Mark…

Except…in that restaurant, with Death looking on, Dean had come so close…and then stopped.  _Before_  the Mark had been removed.

"Dean," Sam groaned. "There's still good in you. There's always been good in you."

Dean barked out a harsh laugh. "Took one too many hits to the noggin, did ya, Sammy? When are you gonna realize you can't save me? When I gut you? Or maybe I gut Cas first, so you can watch."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, throat clogging with bitter despair and the blood trickling down his esophagus. "You're right," he whispered. "I- I might not always be able to save you. Maybe I never could." He forced himself to look up into his brother's cold, black eyes as Dean loomed over him. "But that's okay. Because…because you save yourself. You killed Death instead of me."

"Yeah, that was dumb."

Sam swallowed thickly. "But you did. And you pulled yourself out of Purgatory. You survived Hell. You didn't let it break you, didn't let it stop you from fighting the good fight." He coughed on a glob of blood, but managed to lift his head enough to give Dean a wan flicker of a smile. "You're Batman."

Dean didn't move, didn't speak. It was almost as though time had stopped. And then the black marble in his eyes melted away, leaving his expression utterly wrecked. The First Blade fell from limp fingers.

"Sammy…" Dean dropped to his knees in the mud with a squelch. "Oh god," he choked.

"I'm okay," Sam rasped, even though he really wasn't. Shouldn't stopping the dream have healed him? Maybe Cas could…except he wasn't getting up either.

Dean suddenly bowed forward with a strained groan and clutched his forearm. "Ungh, Sam, you and Cas have to run. It- it's too strong."

Sam's heart stalled. No, he'd let his fear go. Dean wasn't a demon anymore. But he could see the angry red lines of the Mark peeking out from under his brother's hand as Dean dug his fingernails into his arm hard enough to draw blood. Maybe…maybe this fear wasn't only Sam's.

He pushed himself upright with a grunt and clamped a hand over his brother's. "You're stronger," he urged. "You always were."

Dean shook his head. "No, no I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Dean, none of this is real." Sam tried to gesture at the surrounding carnage, but almost lost his precarious balance. He felt one of his ribs shift painfully, and bit back a cry. "You didn't do any of this. Never did."

"You're wrong. I did break in Hell, Sam," he spat. "Maybe…maybe the Mark is only a conduit. Maybe it just let out what was always inside of me."

"No," Cas growled, propping himself up on his elbows and skewering Dean with the sternest glare he could muster, despite the tracks of blood coating his face. "You are and always have been the Righteous Man. Your soul is  _good_. I was there, remember? I put your body back together, but your soul was pure. Then and now."

"How can you say that?" Dean nearly shouted. "I tortured souls for  _ten_  years. The Apocalypse started with me!"

"The End Times started long before you were born," Cas countered. "What matters is you only went to Hell because you sold your soul to save Sam. Because you loved your brother more than yourself. And you let him jump into the Cage to save the world. Those are not the actions of a wicked man, Dean; they are those of a hero."

Tears filled Sam's eyes as he listened to the angel voice everything Sam had always known about his big brother.

Cas let out a pained grunt and slipped slightly in the mud. "You don't remember, but- but when I found you, in Hell, you were torturing a soul on the rack. You didn't know I was an angel, just that I was- different, terrifying even." Cas pushed himself up further again. "You asked me to help you stop. You didn't want to be torturing, Dean. You were trying to survive. And- and I knew that what you were really asking for in that moment was to be eradicated." Cas's eyes wavered with pain and emotion, both present and remembered. "If my orders hadn't been to raise you…I think my disobedience would have come a lot sooner. Because I wouldn't have left such a pure soul to languish in that corrupt filth. You deserved to be saved. You  _always_  deserved to be saved."

"And what about everything since?" Dean lobbed back sharply. "What I did…" His voice cracked. "I almost killed you." He turned pained eyes back to Sam. "I almost killed both of you."

"But you didn't," Sam pressed, clinging to him. "When it came down to it, you didn't. You have to believe in yourself, Dean, just like we do. Just like we always have." He swallowed. "Because you're the only one who can save us now."

Sam figured that had to be the case, if the nightmare hadn't faded with him letting his own fear go. He sucked in a hitched breath and tried to ignore the burning in his lungs.

Dean curled forward with an anguished cry, and Sam shifted to put his arms around his brother, but he only managed one, and it was half supporting his own weight rather than bracing Dean. But he didn't let go. Cas was gazing at them with equal measure of raw emotion, head and shoulders drooping closer to the ground as he strained to hold himself up.

After several long, agonizing moments, Dean finally straightened sharply, grabbed the First Blade on the ground next to him, and chucked it across the field. With a ragged gasp, he glanced down at his forearm as the Mark slowly began to fade. The bodies around them melted into mist until there was nothing but grass and dirt, and even the gray pall overhead dissipated into smears of white clouds.

Sam inhaled sharply as he suddenly found himself able to breathe unimpeded again, and he jolted as the pain throughout his entire body vanished in an instant. Sitting up, he gave himself a quick once-over and found that his injuries were gone. He threw an urgent glance at Cas, and sagged in relief to see the angel slowly standing up, the blood and mud gone from him as well. Sam frowned, though, because it obviously hadn't been enough to wake them up.

"Sam?" Dean said tentatively, expression still distraught.

"Yeah," he replied, getting to his feet as well. Dean followed suit.

"I… 'sorry' isn't enough…"

"It's okay, Dean," Sam cut him off. "It wasn't you. It was the djinn."

"But it was me. The other times…" Dean turned to Cas as the angel joined them, eyes still swimming with grief.

"It wasn't truly you then, either," Cas said. "Not as a demon, and not under the Mark's influence."

He started to shake his head.

"Dean, I already forgave you," Sam insisted. "I forgave you in that restaurant, because I knew you'd find your way back. Just like you did here, again. You always find your way back."

His brother let out a shuddering breath, but then straightened as he collected himself. "I'm going to kill this bastard."

"I believe killing the djinn might be our only option at escaping this dream construct," Cas said.

"But how do we find it?" Sam asked, looking around warily. It had attacked them when Cas had rejected his wish fulfillment; now that they'd overcome this scenario, would it come at them again?

"Well," Dean said, voice taking on a gruffer edge. "At least it's exhausted our wishes and fears. Maybe it will take a hint and just let us go."

Sam rolled his eyes. Yeah, right. "How are we even supposed to kill it in a dream fantasy? If we scrounge up a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, would it still work?"

Cas canted his head thoughtfully. "Even if it did not kill the djinn in the waking world, it should at least break its hold over our minds so that we can wake up." He drew his angel blade. "In which case, this should also work."

"Great," Dean muttered. "Now if we can just get the bastard to come out and play."

The air several feet away suddenly wobbled, and the djinn appeared, eyes blazing with fury. Sam stiffened. Well, shit. He and Dean didn't have any weapons.

The djinn shot a baleful glower at Cas. "Release me!" it snarled.

Sam blinked. Wait, what?

"You brought us here," Dean lobbed back. "So how about you let us go."

The djinn spat a hiss at him before zeroing in on Cas again. "I will not be trapped here!"

Sam didn't have a chance to wonder what the hell he was talking about before the djinn was charging at them. Cas leaped forward to intercept it, brandishing his angel blade. The djinn ducked under Cas's first swing and tried to twist around to grab his head, but Cas was faster. The angel tossed his blade to his other hand and slashed out, scoring a gash across the djinn's bicep. The monster jerked away with an enraged shriek, clutching at his arm as blue liquid seeped out between his fingers. Cas lunged to deliver another thrust, but the djinn dove to the side, and suddenly the air bent sharply.

Sam's stomach lurched as sky and earth switched places, pitching him into chaos.

* * *

Dean jolted as he suddenly found himself back in the bunker. His sleeves were rolled down, and he frantically yanked the right one up to check his arm. The Mark was still gone. It hadn't really come back, but it'd  _felt_  so real, the sinister susurrations of violence and hot, pulsing thirst for blood. And Dean had let himself succumb to it. Again. He'd lost himself in the deluge of rage, even if only for a minute, but it was a minute too long since he'd almost lost his brother and Cas because of it. The Mark may have been a dream, but killing them would have had real consequences in the waking world.

Dean's breath hitched, and he had to force himself to focus on the fact that he  _hadn't_  gone that far. Not this time. Not then. He'd been able to resist the Mark's influence, able to let his fear go. And not because of any strength of will on his part, but because he managed to believe in his little brother's faith in him, even when he had none for himself. Just like when he'd almost said yes to Michael. Sam was wrong; Dean didn't save himself. Or, at least not for his own sake, but always so he could get back to his family and protect  _them_.

"Dean?" Sam's concerned voice called from nearby.

Dean quickly tugged his sleeve back down. "Yeah, fine," he said, tone gruffer than he would have liked. He gazed around the bunker. "What now?"

Sam turned to Cas. "What did the djinn mean about wanting you to release it?"

Cas furrowed his brow. "I don't know."

"Maybe the Alpha djinn is nuts," Dean muttered.

Cas canted his head in consideration. "When it attacked me…there was…an explosion."

Sam's brows shot upward. "What?"

"Of power," he clarified. "I tried to smite it, and I believe it was attempting to poison me at the exact same moment. I don't know what happened, but the next thing I knew, I was here, in the dream with you."

Sam pursed his mouth. "So, your powers got tangled?"

Cas shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

Dean scowled and began to pace. "Still doesn't help us figure out how to get  _out_."

"But maybe that's why the normal methods for waking up aren't working," Sam went on. "Maybe somehow when its power and Cas's collided, they both got thrown into the dream, which was already set up, and are now both stuck here."

"Again, not much help to us  _now_ ," Dean retorted. He was getting more and more pissed, and it had nothing to do with lingering whispers of the Mark. What the djinn had made him relive was worse than any torture Hell could have devised, and he wanted to gank this bastard six ways to Sunday.

Footsteps in the hall had him spinning around and reaching for a weapon he didn't have on his person.

"There you are," Mary said. "I'd wondered where you'd gotten to. I was ready to keep the pie all to myself."

Dean eyed her warily. Was this…the first dream again? He shot an uncertain look at Sam and Cas, who were poised with equal tension.

"So, are you going to come eat?" Mary prompted.

"Yeah, no," Dean snapped. "Because you're not real. None of this is real."

Her mouth turned down. "What are you talking about? Of course I'm real, Dean."

He let out a bitter snort. "My mom doesn't cook. Or bake pies."

And that was the reality he just had to accept, that his mom didn't stay home and bake him cookies, that she had a restless, wandering spirit just like her sons. Dean may have considered the bunker home, but he would always feel the drive to go out and find a case. Maybe it'd be nice if Mary would stick around long enough to even go on hunts  _with_  them, but boo-hoo if she didn't. She was alive and stayed in contact, and Dean just had to get used to what she was willing and ready to give, because it sure as hell was a lot better than her not being there at all.

The illusion of Mary gave him a considering look, her expression falling. "Wouldn't you rather have this, though? I can be the mother you want—need. Not the one out there who continues to disappoint you."

Dean stiffened at the break in character, and at the way this specter seemed to see right into his mind. Well, this was his dream, after all, wasn't it?

Mary moved closer. "Stay here with me," she pleaded. "Accept that this can be your new reality."

Dean took a step back. "And waste away in the real world while a djinn feeds on us? Pass."

"There's nothing but pain and heartache out there," she pressed. "Why would you want that?"

"Because it's real," Sam answered fervently. "The good, the bad, all of it."

"But this is better. This is peaceful."

"This isn't  _real_."

Mary turned pleading eyes to Dean. "But it can be. If you believe it is."

He shook his head; they were not having this argument with a friggin' hallucination.

"What about you, Cas?" Mary continued desperately. "You don't really want to go back out there. To being alone? No wings, no home."

Cas's jaw visibly tightened, and Dean was once again filled with ire that the djinn would pluck Ishim's words out of Cas's head to use against him. Especially now that Dean knew how much they truly hurt the angel, despite Cas's assurances that he'd 'put up with it' then.

"You can stay here," Mary urged. "You can belong like I know you want to, deep down."

"He already belongs here," Dean snapped. "You don't."

He reached for the gun taped under the table, back in its regular spot, and fired three shots. Each one tore through Mary's torso, propelling her back a step. Her eyes flashed blue, the areas around the wounds morphing into darker clothes and a trace of tattoos. Her face twisted into a snarl, some of her hair receding as the djinn's true form bled out of the illusion.

The bullets weren't silver or coated with lamb's blood, though. Why did djinn dreams have to follow the rules of reality in the first place?

The djinn snarled at them, half its body still melded with the image of their mom. "Stop resisting!" it hissed. "You're only making it worse!"

Dean frowned. "Oh yeah? For us or you?" He raised the gun and emptied the rest of the magazine into the djinn, then tossed the gun aside and bolted for one of the bookcases where they had an angel blade stashed. At least those had to work on killing this thing.

By the time he got the weapon and turned around, Cas had already attacked. The djinn tried to backpedal, but while it may have played Mary, it didn't know the bunker like the back of its hand, and ended up tripping over a chair. Now in its full form, it kicked the piece of furniture at Cas, which almost made him trip as well. Then the djinn was scrambling up and away as Dean came charging around.

Dean swung his blade, grazing the djinn's chest as it jerked away. Cas lunged from the other side, stabbing the monster in the shoulder. It let out a raging bellow and wrenched backward, grabbing the lamp off the table and flinging it at Cas's head. The shade shattered on impact, knocking the angel back a step.

The djinn vaulted over the table toward Sam, who'd also found an angel blade. But the djinn caught Sam's arm when he swung, torqued his elbow back so he dropped the weapon with a strained grunt, and kicked out one knee to drive him to the floor. Then the djinn spun around and trapped him in a headlock.

"Stop!" it growled as Dean and Cas started forward. Blue fire was squiggling over the djinn's hands, not yet seeping into Sam, but close enough his hair was fanning from the crackling energy. "I snap his neck, he dies right here and now. In the dream and outside."

Dean froze, as did Cas.

"You want out," Sam said through gritted teeth. "End the dream yourself."

The djinn sneered at him. "I can't." Its eyes flashed dangerously at Dean and Cas. "Drop your weapons."

Dean's fist only clenched tighter around the hilt of his blade, but the djinn had them and knew it. With barely contained fury, Dean threw the blade down. A moment later, Cas let his drop as well with a metallic clatter.

"Look," Dean said, holding his palms up. "We all want out of this dream. So maybe we should work together." It grated him to suggest it, but they'd been forced into worse deals in the past. And he still had every intention of ganking this son-of-a-bitch once they were awake.

The djinn stared at him for a prolonged moment. "I'll take my chances."

He vanished into thin air, and Sam swayed at suddenly being released. Before Dean could react, the djinn had reappeared right behind Cas, and swung an arm up to slam a glowing palm across the angel's forehead. Cas's body seized as blue fire coursed into his eyes, filling them with the djinn's poison.

"Cas!" Dean lunged to reach them, but immediately fell into blackness.

He landed on a concrete floor that jarred his knees and almost upended his balance. His vision was dim, and he blinked furiously until he realized it was because the place he was in was poorly lit. Dammit, what now? He'd thought there weren't any wishes or worst fears left for the djinn to mine.

"Sam? Cas!" Dean shouted, his voice echoing through the darkness. Wherever he was, the room was large and evidently spacious.

"Here," Sam answered from nearby, and a second later Dean could make out his brother's profile stumbling forward.

Dean twisted around. "Where's Cas?"

"I don't—" Sam sucked in a harsh gasp. "Dean."

Dean's heart skipped a beat at his brother's tone, and then Sam was pushing past him and dropping to the ground a few feet away. There was a dark lump on the floor.

Shit.

Dean hurried to crouch down next to Sam as his brother reached out to grip a shoulder and roll the body over. They both recoiled sharply, because that wasn't Cas. Dean's eyes had gradually adjusted to the low lighting, and it was  _himself_  he was staring at. Himself with a hole in his chest and blood trailing out the corner of his mouth.

"What the hell…"

"This has gotta be Cas's fear," Sam said. "Of you dying."

"Yeah, well, I'm not dead." He surged to his feet. "Cas!"

Overhead lights flickered on, bathing the space in harsh fluorescence. They were in a massive warehouse, but not the dingy dilapidated ones the Winchesters were used to frequenting; this one was pristine and cold and empty…save for the dozens—no,  _hundreds_ —of bodies scattered throughout it. Sam lurched to his feet with a choked sound in the back of his throat.

Every single one of them was Dean…

"What the hell is this?" he breathed, staring at the numerous copies of himself that had been stabbed and were leaking crimson blood on the otherwise sterile floor. Some had limbs twisted in unnatural directions, snapped like they were toothpicks.

His gaze traveled upward, and Dean stiffened when he spotted Cas standing at one end of the warehouse several yards away, angel blade in hand and gazing down dispassionately at one of the dead Deans. "Cas—"

A door behind the angel banged open, and a lithe figure strode through. Dean's spine went rigid as he recognized the woman in the suit and hair wrapped up in a bun. "Naomi?" he sputtered.

Sam shot him a confused look. "Wait, the angel that got Cas out of Purgatory and brainwashed him?" His face slackened in horror as he glanced around at the dead bodies. "Oh god…"

Dean couldn't breathe. There were hundreds of him, spread across the warehouse that he couldn't even see the other side of. Was this…? Cas had never told him what exactly happened in Heaven with Naomi, how she'd been able to control him. If this was it…Dean suddenly understood why Cas had run that day in the crypt.

"Son-of-a-bitch," Dean uttered. But wait, if this was Cas's worst fear, then…

"Again, Castiel," Naomi commanded, and nodded toward Dean and Sam.

Cas lifted deadened eyes their way, no recognition in them, no semblance of anything but a robotic soldier programmed to follow orders.

Oh no…

Cas stepped over the body of the Dean he'd just killed, angel blade glinting in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

"Cas, no," Sam gasped. "This isn't real, remember? It's the djinn!"

Cas continued to advance, face utterly blank.

"Cas, snap out of it!" Sam urged.

But Dean knew it wasn't that simple. It didn't matter that this was a dream world, that Naomi wasn't really there; the djinn's illusion was too overpowering. Just as it'd been when Dean looked down to find the Mark on his arm again.

But…Sam had gotten through to him then, just like he'd done in reality. And Dean had gotten through to Cas in the crypt. He had to believe he could do it again.

"Cas, I know you're in there," he tried desperately. "I know you can hear me."

Cas strode forward, and Dean had to force himself to hold his ground. He saw the fist coming, expected it, but the force behind the blow still startled him as it slammed into his jaw hard enough to make his skull rattle. His teeth clacked together, splashing his mouth with a coppery tang.

"Cas, you can fight this!" Sam pleaded.

Cas twisted and backhanded him so hard he went sprawling on the floor. Dean grabbed Cas's arm, even as the memory of his own being snapped in two came flooding back. But he'd take the beating if it meant saving his friend from this nightmare.

"Cas," he choked. "We're family. We need you."

Cas didn't crank his arm back to break it, but instead drove the pommel of his blade into the side of Dean's head, and he went crashing to his knees. He grasped frantically to keep a hold of Cas's sleeve as his vision swam and darkened for a second. He couldn't let go.

"We're family," he repeated. "Naomi isn't stronger than that. She's not stronger than you. You hear me? You're stronger than her!"

Cas paused, eyes still devoid of emotion or recognition, but he didn't move to strike again or deliver the final blow.

Naomi tutted disapprovingly. "Again with the hesitation, Castiel? Do we need another session?"

Cas raised his blade high, but as he did so, a slight pinch slowly appeared between his brows, the first flicker of  _him_  somewhere in there, trying to get out.

"Come on, Cas," Dean urged, swaying on his knees. "You can do it. Come back to us."

Sam struggled to sit up. "Cas, please."

Blood started leaking from the inside corner of Cas's eye, and Dean felt a new wave of horror at wondering what it meant. What it'd meant that night when they'd found Cas standing over Samandriel's body.

"You will obey," Naomi snapped. "One way or the other, Castiel. You don't have a choice."

Cas's shuttered expression wavered, eyes widening. His hand was shaking now, but he wasn't lowering the blade. Face contorting in pain, Cas arced the blade down. But instead of striking Dean, he curved his trajectory inward, plunging the angel blade into his own stomach.

"No!"

Cas staggered before dropping to his knees in front of Dean, who lurched forward to catch him. Cas let out a pained gasp as he clutched the hilt around his gut, his eyes full of panic and horror as he met Dean's own terrified gaze. "Dean…"

"Dammit, Cas," he cursed.

Heels clacked on the concrete floor as Naomi approached, mouth pursed in a disappointed moue. "Now we have to start all over, Castiel."

"Stay the hell away from him," Dean snarled. "You're not really here." He clasped the sides of Cas's face. "Cas, she's not real. Okay? She's  _not_   _real_!"

Cas's expression twisted with anguish, rivulets of blood now streaming from both his eyes. He grunted and started to list sideways, but Sam scrambled over and caught his shoulders.

"You can't resist forever, Castiel," Naomi went on. "You're only making it harder on yourself. The will of Heaven is absolute. You know that."

Furious, Dean didn't think before yanking the angel blade out of Cas and leaping up to attack Naomi with it. Cas's scream echoed in his ears, followed by the rush of wingbeats, and he ended up slashing through open air. Dean spun, but the bitch didn't reappear. He dropped his gaze back to Cas, who was sagging against Sam, breaths ragged as the hole in his stomach glowed blue for a moment before fizzling out.

"You stupid bastard," Dean growled. "Why did you do that? Killing yourself in a nightmare dream doesn't end it like it does in a wish fantasy!" He knelt down and tried to get a look at the wound and the growing crimson stain spreading out from it. He cursed again.

Cas squeezed his eyes shut, which looked horrible with the macabre tear tracks streaming down his face. "I c-couldn't let her…hurt you. Through me," he rasped. "Not again. Not again…" His voice grew fainter as the sickening mantra trailed off.

Dean's stomach churned with sympathy, because after all, he knew exactly what Cas was feeling, what the Mark had similarly brought him to the brink of. And he knew just how hard it was going to be for Cas to let go of his fear. That was, if he didn't bleed out before he got a chance to.

Dean grabbed one of Cas's arms and slung it over his shoulder. Sam shot him a bewildered look before hurrying to take Cas's other side and help Dean haul him up. Cas choked back a cry.

"Come on," Dean grunted. He wanted to get the hell away from all these dead copies of himself, not to mention find someplace to hide in case Naomi came back.

As if there was such a place when trapped in your own head… Or, as Dean was afraid of, trapped in Heaven's own version of Hell.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam hiked Cas's arm higher over his shoulder as they barreled through the warehouse's door, only to emerge in a stark white corridor that seemed to extend forever. Crap, now what? They had to be in Heaven, right? Though, it didn't look anything like what Sam remembered from the one time he and Dean had been running through the place. Maybe this was the behind-the-scenes area…where they did stuff like  _torture_  their own brothers.

Bile rose in the back of Sam's throat, and he had to swallow forcibly to keep from throwing up. What Cas had been through…forced to kill Dean over and over again…Sam had never imagined the angels could be that savage. In a way, it was worse than demons, because angels were supposed to be agents of righteousness.

Cas was drooping lower again, fading fast. As long as they were stuck in this dream scenario, they were bound by its rules, which meant Cas was bleeding out after  _stabbing_  himself with his own blade.

"Dean." Sam threw his brother a questioning look. What the hell were they supposed to do now?

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked, and he cocked his head to keep moving. Sam wondered whether they were at risk of running into more angels, and where the hell Naomi had gotten to.

"Cas," he said earnestly. "You have to let go of your fear."

Cas didn't respond, but his next step stumbled, and both Winchesters had to halt to adjust their hold and keep him from falling.

Dean swore under his breath, and then turned to kick in a side door. It was dark inside, so he tugged Cas over the threshold, Sam following. Once inside, Dean kicked the door closed behind them, and Sam realized there was actually a subtle ocher glow suffusing the small interior from what looked like an LED bar built into the wall, halfway up from the floor and extending around the entire perimeter.

Dean lowered Cas to the floor. Sam bent down with them, then shifted to try getting a look at the wound. It wasn't glowing anymore, but it didn't look like it had stopped bleeding. He bunched up one side of the trench coat and pressed it to Cas's stomach, eliciting a pained grunt as Cas's back arched against the wall.

"Cas, come on," he urged. "Naomi's dead, right? She can't ever hurt you again."

Cas shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "It doesn't matter. Whether it's Naomi, or another angel…or something else. I- I can be compromised… _programmed_ , to hurt you. I always hurt you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded. "You  _stopped_  in the crypt, Cas. You broke her control."

"That was the Tablet."

"No, you stopped before that," Dean insisted. "Maybe touching the Tablet broke your connection with Naomi, but  _you_  stopped yourself from killing me before you picked it up."

Cas opened his eyes to reveal swirling depths of agony. "That time. Not…not the other…"

Sam frowned, until it suddenly hit him, the way the two tracks of blood streaming from Cas's eyes were so reminiscent of the attack dog spell…which had also caused Cas to almost kill Dean.

"Cas," Sam jumped in. "Rowena's curse was different."

Cas shook his head again. "It's not. You don't understand. I- I couldn't control it. Then. Now." He grimaced and thunked his head back against the wall. "You're my family," he whispered. "And I've hurt you, so many times."

"You forgetting all the times I've done the same to you?" Dean scowled. "I know exactly what that feels like, Cas. And I know how terrifying it is to think you can become something that would do that to the people you care about." He reached out to grip the angel's shoulder. "But you  _are_  strong enough. And when you're not, me and Sam will always be there to bring you back. Just like you two did for me with the Mark." Dean shifted closer, locking his gaze with Cas's. "That's how you let go. Maybe you can't trust yourself, but you can trust us."

Cas's eyes were glistening as he gazed back at them, looking like he so desperately wanted to believe.

The lights flicked on with glaring harshness, making Sam jump.

"Trust you?" a cold voice said, dripping with disdain. Sam and Dean whirled to find Naomi standing at the other end of the room, next to what looked like a dentist chair and metal cart with a tray of instruments.

"You would trust the Winchesters, Castiel? When they've cast you out, again and again. They knew something was wrong with you when you killed Samandriel, and they did nothing."

Sam turned back to Cas sharply. "Don't listen to her. She's not real, remember?"

And yeah, they hadn't been there for Cas plenty of times in the past, but they were better now. They  _all_  knew how to do better now.

"Do you know that for sure, Castiel?" Naomi said. "I've been in your head so many times; how do you know there isn't that one bit of programming, dormant all this time but just waiting to be triggered?"

Dean leaped to his feet, angel blade still in hand. "You shut your mouth."

Naomi merely smirked, and flicked her wrist. Dean went flying into the wall where he stuck like a fly on tape. The door they'd come through swung open, and two angels stormed in. One planted a hand on Sam's shoulder and tossed him aside like he weighed nothing. Then they were grabbing Cas by the arms and yanking him up.

Sam dove for the angel blade Dean had dropped, but an invisible force kicked him in the stomach and sent him slamming against the wall where he found himself pinned and unable to move.

The angels dragged Cas over to the chair and wrestled him into it, clamping metal cuffs around his wrists to hold him in place. Naomi reached for the cart, and lifted a long, thin, metal instrument of some kind.

Cas's eyes blew wide with panic, and he thrashed in the chair. "No, please!"

Naomi planted her other hand on Cas's forehead to hold him still, mouth tugging upward as a whimper tore from his throat. Sam's heart seized, because nothing should have been able to make Cas sound like that. He watched with growing horror as Naomi angled the pick toward Cas's eye, and then she pressed an unseen button that started it whirring like a drill.  _Oh god_ …

Sam pushed and strained against the invisible force keeping him immobile, but it was useless. Dean's cheeks puffed red with exertion as he, too, fought the telekinesis, to no avail.

"Cas!" Sam cried. "You have to fight her!"

Naomi bent over Cas, blocking their view, but then Cas's legs jerked and he let out the most horrendous, bloodcurdling scream.

Sam strained so hard it felt like his chest was going to implode.

"You will kill Dean Winchester if it's the last thing I do!" Naomi seethed.

"No, he won't!" Sam lobbed at her. "Because no matter what you do—what you  _did_ —Cas is still our brother. He will always be our brother, and you can't touch that."

_Come on, Cas, hold onto that. You have to hold onto that_.

Naomi whipped her head up to shoot him a murderous glare. "I'll let you live long enough to prove you wrong."

She bent over Cas again, but before she could drive the drill deeper, the lights in the ceiling suddenly exploded. The pressure on Sam's chest vanished in an instant, and he heard a thud and grunt as Dean hit the floor next to him. Neither of them wasted time—Dean scooped up the angel blade and lunged at the nearest winged goon while Sam charged into the second like a linebacker, knocking him flat on his ass. Snatching the angel's own blade from his belt, Sam flipped the end around and drove the point straight through the heart. Two explosions of light erupted at the same time, and Sam pushed himself off the dying angel to turn toward Naomi, who had backed away from Cas, fury turning her face puce.

Dean came at her from the other side. "I'm glad I get the chance to kill you myself," he growled, and surged forward.

Naomi tried to parry with the drill, but didn't have enough reach with the cord it was attached to, and Dean swiftly stabbed his blade through her throat, severing her vocal cords so she couldn't even scream. Blazing light exploded through her gaping mouth and shellshocked eyes.

Sam wrenched away and staggered to Cas's side, heart stuttering at the fresh track of blood mixed with tears running wetly down one cheek. He reached both hands up to clasp the sides of Cas's head. "Cas, hey, you're okay now. We're here. We got you."

Dean hurried around to the other side and started fumbling at the metal restraints, trying to get them off.

Cas lolled his head to the side to gaze at Naomi's lifeless body. "You did it," he rasped.

His eyes drifted shut, and then the air began to bend and bleed. In the next instant, they were all standing together in the abandoned factory where they'd originally tracked the djinn. Cas's face was no longer streaked with blood, nor did he have a gaping stab wound in his stomach, yet he still immediately began to drop. Sam lashed out to catch him, but only managed to slow his descent as they both sank to their knees on the ground.

"Hey, easy."

Dean whipped his head around warily. "What happened? Are we awake?"

Cas shook his head numbly. "No. Not yet."

Sam heaved a sigh. But hey, they'd just had a pretty significant win there. He squeezed Cas's shoulder. "You let go of your fear," he said, giving the angel a proud smile.

Cas's breaths were still coming rather shakily. "I- remembered the times- you came for me. And how you- always…manage the impossible." He closed his eyes and curled forward with a shudder.

Sam's heart clenched at the horror of what Cas had gone through at Naomi's hands, both in the dream and in the past. God, he and Dean had had no idea…

Sam put his arms around Cas and pulled him into a hug, vowing to never let that kind of thing happen again. "We will  _always_  come for you," he promised out loud, lifting his gaze to his brother's so the two of them could silently unite in that resolve.

Dean stepped closer and put a reassuring hand on the back of Cas's neck. "Naomi's dead. She will  _never_  touch you again. And you don't have to be afraid of losing yourself, because me and Sam will always find you. Whether it's a curse, other angels, or friggin' Lucifer, we will always bring you home. You believe me?"

Cas let out a shuddering breath against Sam's shoulder, but nodded. "Yes," he whispered.

Sam drew back to give Cas an encouraging look of solidarity. The three of them believed in each other; that's what made them strong.

A resounding crash of metal echoed through the factory, followed by an enraged roar. Sam leaped to his feet as a bunch of crates and tools went flying across the floor at the end of the aisle, and the djinn stormed around the corner to face them.

" _You_ …" it spluttered, spittle seething from its mouth as its cheeks puffed furiously. With another raging bellow, it charged.

Dean still had Cas's angel blade, and surged forward to intercept him. But just as he thrust the blade downward, the djinn shot a hand up to catch Dean's arm mid-strike. The Alpha clamped his other hand on the back of Dean's neck, and then swung him around to throw him against one of the machines. He hit a duct head on, and crumpled to the floor.

Sam grabbed a rusted wrench from atop another machine and swung with all his might at the djinn's head. The Alpha turned in time to get clobbered across the face with a dull thwack that echoed slightly in the factory. His cheek split open as his head jerked sideways sharply, but the blow didn't bring him down. Instead, his eyes flashed cobalt, and he wrenched the tool from Sam's grip. Then he grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt and hefted him off the ground. Sam's stomach shot up into his throat as he was flung several feet through the air. He hit the ground with a jarring thud and rolled until a piece of machinery stopped his momentum.

Scrambling to get up, Sam spotted Cas now on his feet and extending a glowing hand toward the djinn as though to smite it. But then the golden hue flickered before sputtering out, and Cas stumbled.

The djinn drew up short, a wicked grin splitting the cut on his face wider. "You're fading as quickly as I am," he hissed. He cocked his head. "So I guess that means if I want out, I just have to kill you."

He lunged forward, and Cas responded by taking a swing at him, but the djinn threw an arm up to block. The Alpha shot his other hand up to grab Cas by the throat, fingers wreathed in blue fire. But instead of the poison suffusing up into Cas's veins, gray lines started running down his face and neck and into the djinn, as if the Alpha was sucking the life out of him.

Sam frantically whipped his head around in search of a weapon, and spotted a glint of silver a few feet away, half under a piece of machinery. An image of the djinn getting the drop on him and knocking the knife from his grip flashed through his mind then, and Sam blinked furiously under the assault. He remembered now, the djinn overpowering him before he could kill it. And his knife…

Sam snatched it up. It may not have been the real thing in the real world, but this dream construct had to follow the same rules. Jumping to his feet, Sam rushed the djinn and drove the knife through his back. His spine arched and he jerked sharply, releasing Cas, who dropped to his knees. Sam gave the knife a twist for good measure, and the djinn made a choked sound before going limp.

Then the walls all around them split, and blinding light blazed through the fissures, whiting out Sam's vision. He threw an arm up to shield his eyes, but in the next instant, everything shattered.

* * *

Castiel's head was pounding, and his eyelids felt like lead as he tried to pry them open. When he finally managed it, the world was nothing more than a blob of gray smudges. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried again. This time he could make out silhouettes looming over him. No, hanging. Castiel blinked furiously as the blurred figures gradually separated into the distinct forms of Sam and Dean, both of them suspended in chains. Castiel's heart lurched. The djinn!

He pushed himself onto his elbows with a grunt, and clamped a hand against the side of his head as everything swam dizzily. At least he was no longer in that wretched dream world. A groan sounded above him, followed by a faint clink of iron.

"Ungh," Dean mumbled.

Castiel reached for one of the machinery ducts to haul himself upright. His legs felt boneless, and he almost stumbled into the elder Winchester. "Dean, hold on."

"Cas?"

Castiel straightened, and reached for the chains, but his fingers fumbled over the cuffs.

"We're back, right?" Dean asked weakly.

"Yes."

Dean let out a garbled huff of relief. "Sam?" he called, twisting slightly in search of his brother.

Sam let out a moan, and his eyelids fluttered. "D'n?"

"Yeah. We made it."

Castiel was struggling to break the chains. He needed…he needed a key. Which would be found…

"Cas!" Sam gasped, making him whirl around too fast. Everything blurred again, but when it cleared, Castiel spotted the djinn on the floor a few feet away, gradually waking up as well.

The Alpha rolled into a crouched position, blinking rapidly. When its gaze finally focused, it narrowed sharply on the three of them.

Dean started to thrash in the chains, trying to break free. "Cas…"

Castiel tried to remember where his angel blade was. He wouldn't dare attempt to smite the djinn again, not that his grace was in any condition to muster that kind of power.

The djinn reached for a silver knife on the floor, one of the Winchesters', and slowly got to its feet, lips curling upward in a snarl. It wasn't in the best shape, either, evidenced by the staggering step it took toward them. Not even its eyes were glowing with gathered energy.

Castiel swept his gaze across the floor. Dean had his angel blade last…no, that was in the dream, not out here. The djinn took another lumbering step toward him. Castiel frantically patted down his pockets, pulse leaping when he felt the hard, rounded pommel inside the fold of his coat. He hurried to pull it out as the djinn broke into a galumphing charge. The Alpha barreled into him with enough force that Castiel went crashing to the ground, his skull smacking hard against the concrete. The air punched from his lungs, and all he saw was blackness for several long moments.

White noise burbled in his ears before he could make out actual voices and words.

"Cas!"

"Cas!"

The Winchesters were shouting over each other, sounding frantic and harried. Were they in trouble? Yes, Castiel needed to get up. Except when he tried, he couldn't move, as a heavy weight on top of his chest had him pinned.

"Sam, can you reach something to pick the lock?"

Someone let out a wheeze. "N-no."

Castiel blinked blearily and let out a muffled groan.

"Cas? You better not be dead, you bastard."

Castiel felt the urge to roll his eyes, because of course he wasn't dead if he was able to make a sound. But he knew such movement would likely send him out of orbit again.

"I'm not," he grunted, and shifted his gaze down at his chest. There was a body on top of him, which explained why he couldn't move.

He tried to wriggle his arms out enough to push the djinn off him. The body rolled to the side, eyes wide open and vacant, Castiel's angel blade protruding from the Alpha's chest. Well, some good fortune at last.

Castiel rifled through the djinn's pockets for a key, and once he found it, pushed himself to his feet and staggered back toward the Winchesters. He reached up to unlock Dean's cuffs first. Dean's knees buckled the instant the chains weren't holding him up, and he crashed against Castiel, nearly bringing them both to the floor again. Castiel managed to shift him over and prop Dean against the machinery instead. Then he reached for the manacles around Sam's wrists. Sam was just as weakened, but he at least had the foresight to aim his collapse toward the pipelines to catch his fall.

Castiel roved his gaze over the Winchesters in scrutiny. They were both pale, save for a pair of bruises on their faces from when the djinn had knocked them out initially. Castiel reached two fingers to Sam's forehead and tried to infuse a burst of healing, but his grace spasmed under the strain. He thought some got through, but then he was pitching sideways against the machinery.

"Shit," Sam cursed under his breath, hands shooting out to brace Castiel's shoulders. "You alright?"

"I'm drained," he admitted, too tired to keep up a staunch face after everything.

"Then save your mojo, you dumbass," Dean scowled. "Neither of us is dying."

Castiel shot him a peeved glower. "You could have been. You were both in there for a long time." Dean still wasn't even standing up fully, and Castiel wanted to reach out with his grace to at least determine the shape the hunter was in. But he was just as likely to fall on his face if he tried to cross the few feet between them.

Sam's face scrunched up with a sympathetic grimace. "Yeah, but I think whatever happened between you and the Alpha took just as much out of you."

Castiel did not argue with that.

Dean finally pushed himself away from the ducts. "Let's get out of here." Though his steps were unsteady, he nevertheless managed to make a hobbling effort toward the door of his own power.

Sam gripped Castiel's elbow to help him along, but he didn't begrudge the support at the moment. He was utterly exhausted.

He blinked in surprise when they emerged from the factory and the sun was only partway above the eastern horizon. It had been afternoon when Castiel had arrived at this location. Was it the next morning already? Or had they been trapped in the djinn dream even longer than that? Castiel was too tired to re-tune himself to the cosmos at the moment.

"Head back to the motel?" Sam asked, the question directed at Dean.

Dean pursed his mouth in thought for a moment before his shoulders sagged. "Yeah, we're all pretty wiped."

"I can follow you," Castiel said. He wanted to make sure they'd get there okay.

"Nuh-uh," Dean shot down. "You're in no shape to drive." He waved pointedly at the Impala. "We'll come back for your truck."

Castiel's mouth thinned as he considering protesting, but he quickly decided against it.

Sam paused to turn toward his brother. "Keys."

Dean shot him an indignant look. "Excuse me?"

"You're in no shape to drive, either."

"Like you are?"

"At least I can see straight," Sam retorted. "Cas fixed me up that much. Now come on."

Dean grumbled under his breath as he fished the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Sam, who was able to catch them. Then the three of them wearily climbed into the Impala, Dean grousing further at how filthy she looked.

"We've all had a rough couple days, huh, Baby?" he murmured, patting her dash from the passenger seat.

Castiel thunked his head back against the curve in the leather backseats and closed his eyes as Sam turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine to life. He hoped his grace would recharge quickly so he could finish healing the Winchesters.

The motel wasn't far, and soon they were piling out of the car and shuffling inside. Castiel immediately went for the nearest chair and slumped into it. Dean's eyes were fixed on the bed almost longingly, but after a second, he veered away to take the chair opposite Castiel.

"I'm not sure I actually want to sleep," he grumbled.

Sam huffed out a sigh, but one that rang with agreement as he sat on the foot of the second bed. Castiel would have offered to assist them in getting a dreamless sleep, but his grace wasn't recovered enough for even that yet.

Dean suddenly cleared his throat awkwardly. "Cas, um, I'm sorry."

Castiel lolled his head up to give him an incredulous look. "For what?"

Dean shifted in his seat. "For being so pissed after you took off with the Angel Tablet. If I'd just…" He leaned back and ran a hand down his jaw. "I pretty much drove you toward Metatron, didn't I?" Dean shook his head. "So much shit could have been avoided if I'd just gotten my head out of my ass."

Castiel ducked his gaze. "You were right to be angry, Dean. I nearly killed you, betrayed you, and then I didn't trust you with the Tablet, like you said—"

"No, no," Dean interrupted, leaning forward earnestly. "You were scared, and you ran. I get that. After what Naomi did…god, Cas," he breathed. "You needed us, and I was too pissed to realize that you'd just been…" He choked off, eyes pinching with barely contained grief.

"It's not like you and Sam haven't been through much of the same," Castiel said quietly.

"That doesn't make it okay. In some ways, it doesn't even compare."

Castiel rolled his shoulder in discomfort. "You had no way of knowing."

Dean just gave him a sad look. "Yeah, but I didn't even try to."

Castiel's heart twinged at the memory. But it was in the past, and they'd all moved on since then. "We've all made mistakes," he said softly.

"The important thing is we've learned from them," Sam spoke up. "We know how to do better now."

Dean snorted. "Like not taking on ancient curses, or saying yes to the Devil."

"Like  _trusting_  each other." Sam gave them both a meaningful look. "That's how we always win, in the end. No matter what we face."

Dean shrugged. "Can't argue with that."

They fell silent, and Castiel furrowed his brow in contemplation. It was true, that a great many of their mistakes, their disasters, stemmed from not trusting each other—not communicating. All the way back to Lucifer being released the first time, the search for Purgatory, when Castiel had been human and kicked out of the bunker, working with Rowena to find a cure for the Mark and keeping it from Dean…and so many other things that it was a wonder the three of them could still call themselves friends—family.

But they had persevered, in spite of all that. Or maybe because of it. A bond had been forged between the three of them that Sam was right: no power in Earth, Heaven, or Hell could touch or destroy. Not permanently, anyway. And it was enough to give them the strength to keep fighting, against all odds.

…it had been a long time since Castiel had such faith in something.

Dean finally heaved himself up out of the chair and shuffled toward the other bed, letting out a groan as he sank onto the mattress. He needed some proper rest, but Castiel couldn't help but bring up the notion that suddenly pressed upon him.

"Dean. Maybe…maybe you should ask Mary to come by the bunker more often."

Dean's weariness vanished with a scowl, and he shook his head. "She knows where we live."

"Yes. But if I've learned anything else from this…" Castiel swallowed. "Saying it matters. Otherwise…it can become too easy to fill in the blanks with misunderstandings."

He watched Sam and Dean exchange a look weighted with so many years of memories and experiences, learned behaviors and regrets.

Dean ran a hand over his hair. "Yeah, maybe."

Castiel supposed that was the most the elder Winchester was willing to give. At the moment. They were all still exhausted, after all.

Dean grabbed the television remote off the nightstand and turned on the monitor. "We need a  _Dr. Sexy_  marathon."

Sam let out an exaggerated groan as he plopped back against the pillows. "Haven't we all been through enough?"

"Why, what would you pick?" Dean retorted. " _Gilmore Girls_?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

"Cas, come on," Dean said, scooting back against the headboard and patting the empty side of the bed.

It took quite a bit of effort to push himself out of the chair and make his way the few feet over there, but Castiel managed it. The mattress gave beneath him, molding under his aching joints in a way that offered immediate relief. He sank back against the pillows.

Dean flipped through the various channels, mouth turning down. "Well, crap. What's with all the chick flicks? It's that or Disney."

"Disney," Sam mumbled, eyes already half closed.

Dean sighed dramatically, but nevertheless settled on that station, which was showing some animated film with a strange looking blue creature that had six appendages. Castiel had planned to just rest, tune everything out, but he found himself mildly curious.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said in a soft, gruff tone. "If, uh, if I fall asleep and…you know…" He rolled his shoulder.

"I'll wake you," Castiel promised, then hesitated before adding softly, "Do the same for me?"

Dean nodded sagely. "Yeah, man. Sam too. We look out for each other."

Castiel felt the corners of his mouth tug upward a fraction. Yes, they did.


End file.
